


Return Of The Squire Of Gothos

by elbowsinsidethedoor



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-04 00:43:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6634183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elbowsinsidethedoor/pseuds/elbowsinsidethedoor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is part one of a three part story series. Part two is Echo Of Gothos. Part three is After Gothos. They involve the psi creature Trelane whose appearance, I invite my readers to re-imagine as I did, as a young Joaquin Phoenix. It's set between the episodes, This Side Of Paradise (Spock, the spores and Leila) and The Devil In The Dark (the Horta!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Return Of The Squire Of Gothos

**Author's Note:**

> Huge Thanks: to chaoslady for the original excellent and very sensitive editing!

Kirk was relaxed at the center of the bridge. Janus VI awaited them, and Omicron Ceti III was safely retreating. The crew seemed crisp. Better than all right, according to McCoy, invigorated as a side effect of the spores.

Kirk studied Spock at his station. Not a sign of it. Like nothing happened. No anger. No grief.

"Captain," Uhura's voice was uneasy, snapping Kirk's attention from Spock. "I'm receiving a transmission from Gothos."

A whisper of fear stirred up from the very word Gothos, it ran like a thread across the back of Kirk's neck.

"Are you sure, Uhura?"

They were nowhere near the quadrant of space where they'd encountered Trelane, the Psi creature who'd toyed with them in his own private nightmarish playground. Kirk's body remembered the adrenaline rush; running from the hunter.

"Receiving visual contact, sir."

"On screen," he said, hands tightening on the arms of the chair.

"Trelane," he uttered the name as the screen came to life with the face. The youthful face under a tumble of dark curls would have been handsome if it weren't for the curling sneer of self-indulgence.

"Greetings to the gallant crew of the Enterprise." He spoke with a mocking tone in his musical voice. "It is my pleasure to inform you that a party is being held in Gothos Manor." He bowed with a flourish of his hand. His elaborate costume and setting were plucked from earth's past, a montage of period finery. He'd raided the coffers of Europe at will ranging from seventeenth century France to the parlors of Victorian England to create a scene of decadent luxury in the midst of which he stood, framed by a pair of marble columns. Ruffled lace crowded his chin and dripped from the cuffs of a tight velvet tunic. He reached out to touch one of the columns, drawing attention to a heavy chain that hung from a ring embedded in the stone. "With my deepest apologies to the uninvited," he said,"it's a private party, for two honored guests."

"We appreciate the offer, Trelane," Kirk said, evenly as possible. "Unfortunately, there aren't two members of my crew that I can spare for your party. A little more warning and perhaps ..."

Trelane's laughter rippled across the bridge.

"Very amusing, Captain Kirk. But I wouldn't dream of letting you miss the festivities. I'm sure your crew won't begrudge their Captain and his First Officer a tiny diversion."

Kirk's vision filled with the transport effect. Then he heard Trelane's voice alarmingly close,"Good evening gentlemen and welcome."

"Trelane!" he gasped. He started forward and was jerked to a halt. He stumbled painfully against shackling at his ankles and reaching for balance was caught by the wrench of wrist restraints.Trapped and enraged, pain shooting up his arms from stunned wrists. He struggled for balance, searching for his enemy.

"I'm so delighted that you could attend, Captain, so pleased that you accepted my humble invitation."

It was hard for Kirk to see at first, the room an uneven sea of gold firelight and deep shadow. Trelane he couldn't find, but there stood the Vulcan and Kirk stared. He could hardly recognize his First Officer in the figure beside him. Black velvet chaps fit him like a second skin, disappearing down into tall black leather boots. Kirk's eyes rose to his crotch and were riveted. Skin showed to either side of a velvet pouch attached front and back to the belt at his waist. The pouch bulged obscenely. Slashes of criss-crossing leather hugged the Vulcan's hips like a gun belt. Instead of gun it holstered a whip. Kirk's mouth went dry and he dragged his eyes away from it, up Spock's body. He wore a white silk shirt that billowed at either side of the waistband and hung open under the weight of flounced edges.

Kirk swallowed hard without enough spit, eyes climbing the naked muscled belly, an expanse of dark chest to the naked throat framed by extravagant lace. He felt the hot rush of his own blushing when his eyes reached Spock's. The Vulcan's head was cocked toward him, a dark brow raised as if questioning the long inspection of his body and Kirk pulled uselessly at his arm restraints.

"Captain," said Spock, and the cool tone gave Kirk back some measure of calm. Kirk knew his anger and shame were no use to him and envying the Vulcan's detachment, he tried to shove his emotions down forcibly. He marveled at Spock, as calm as if they still stood on the bridge of the ship, examining the room around them, evaluating without panic.

A fresh surge of outrage ignited in Kirk in spite of himself as he watched Spock lift the object from the holster on his hip. He was holding a black leather rod about a foot long, trailing a cluster of slim leather strands. Spock slowly pulled the strands across the open palm of his hand, seeming to test the texture on the sensitive skin of his finger.

"It would appear we are once again the guests of the Squire of Gothos. Evidently free of parental restraint."

"Superb, Mr. Spock," Trelane's voice rang out. "And may I say that velvet and silk become you. And you, Captain, quite a fetching outfit. So much prettier than your usual attire." Kirk spared a brief glance at himself, only enough to register that he wore much the same kind of clothes, but pale, very pale in contrast to the dark figure beside him.

"Show yourself, Trelane," Kirk insisted, trying to push away his awareness of the clothes. It wasn't easy to do. The trousers clung to him. He was aware of them framing the cheeks of his ass, a thong of fabric curving between them with a silky warmth. Even more difficult to ignore was the insistent feel of his genitals clutched snugly in a soft pouch.

The significance of the sensuous clothes, the whip, the chains, twisted in the pit of his belly. He seethed while in front of him Spock was still a portrait in thought. Kirk forced his eyes away from him, uncomfortably aware of how handsome he looked.

He made himself study his surroundings, searching for clues to any escape route, searching for Trelane. The part of the room that hadn't been revealed on screen in the Enterprise was dominated by a massive four poster bed drenched in satin and piled high with pillows.

"I know you're here Trelane," he said. "Show yourself and explain. This party is over."

The air shimmered on the bed and Trelane appeared. He was no longer wearing the tunic, reclining in a suit that mirrored theirs with a shocking variation. The crotch-covering fabric had been removed leaving his pale skin bare. Kirk frowned at the sight of a swollen penis lolling over a massive scrotum.

"Your desire to see me is a sweet surprise Captain," Trelane laughed. He spread his thighs apart and waved a hand over his genitals. "Do you like what you see?"

"Trelane," Kirk said sharply, "I demand that you release us." He tried to use the authority in his voice to command the child in their captor, keeping his eyes off the exposed flesh, focusing on the pouting face.

"Oh but you just got here. And Mr. Spock is so handsome in black, don't you agree, Captain? I've dreamed of him just this way," he sighed. "So very, very sexy." He rose languorously from the bed and approached the Vulcan. Spock watched without comment, the leather whip dangling from a relaxed hand along his thigh.

"This isn't a game" Kirk warned, molten with dread as Trelane circled his First Officer.

"You don't struggle Mr. Spock," Trelane purred, zeroing in to close range in front of him.

"To struggle would be illogical," said the Vulcan. "Your psi-level is quite beyond the reach of my physical strength to subdue."

"So truly spoken. So wise." He touched Spock's thigh, with brushing fingertips.

"Trelane," Kirk said, trying a different tack, softening his tone in conciliation. "If you return Mr. Spock to the Enterprise, we can talk about what you want, the two of us."

"Foolish, foolish, Captain," he crooned. He had begun to trace the shape of Spock's weighty genitals through the velvet. "No one is leaving." He reached further between the black velvet thighs and massaged his scrotum through the fabric. Spock received this impassively. "If only you'd get hard for me," Trelane pouted, rubbing him. The he stepped back abruptly. He shot an angry look at Kirk. "Bitch. Stupid human, bitch. You're only here for him. Why he wants you is beyond me. But I'll see him bring you to your knees, and bleed."

He reached out and slapped Kirk's face and then pulled his hand back with a squeal of pain. Wiggling his stung hand, he turned his back on them, saying, "Let the game begin. Mr. Spock."

The air shimmered where he disappeared from sight but his voice still sounded close. "I want him punished and bloody," he exhorted. "If I don't see him beg to be fucked, I'll kill him."

Kirk heard his own harsh breathing.

Spock want me? he thought. Impossible! Spock _couldn't_ have those feelings, it was impossible for a Vulcan, impossible for this Vulcan.

"Captain" said Spock gently, and Kirk forced himself to look at him, reeling inside from the impact of Trelane's words. His First Officer's dark eyes were studying him, serious, measuring. "Do you trust me?"

"With my life, Spock," he said, "but you can't do this. I won't let you do this. He's insane. If you do what he says it's just feeding his madness."

"I must do what I deem necessary." He raised his hand, hefting the whip thoughtfully. He snapped it experimentally in the air with a crack that made Kirk's heart lurch in his chest.

"Spock, you can't ..." his words broke off watching the movement of the whip, Spock waving it gently to see how the strands responded. He wound them in a loose fist and looked up into Kirk's eyes again. "It's not true is it, Spock?" he almost whispered.

"Captain," the Vulcan said gently, "allow me to attempt to save your life. If I succeed you may ask whatever questions you wish."

He trailed the lashes on the floor as he drew closer to stand beside the chained body. Then he lifted the black rod to Kirk's face, touching the cheek that was still glowing pink from Trelane's slap. "Jim," the Vulcan said, "there is no other option."

"Bravo Mr. Spock," Trelane's voice sounded from the vicinity of the bed. Kirk eyes desperately searched it for a sign of him. Then he felt the whip handle insistent against his face, bringing his gaze back to Spock.

Spock ran the weapon down the line of Kirk's jaw, over the muscles of his throat as he swallowed. Kirk dodged backward as far as he could.

"There's got to be a way ..." he began and faltered as the whip flew back and cracked dangerously in the air. I can't let this happen, he thought desperately, but it is happening. I trust him, God, I trust him, but ...

Spock brought the whip handle up between Kirk's legs, running it over the fawn-colored velvet encasing a swollen penis. A body blush rose with prickling heat from Kirk's groin, through his chest, even his neck was hot as he tried to jerk his hips away from the touch of the rod.

"Your struggle is useless for the purpose of escape," Spock said, "but effective for the purpose of arousal."

"You're mad," Kirk insisted. "This isn't an option." But there was no space left to back into and Spock rubbed Kirk's thinly covered erection, toying with it until it climbed a tight arc up his belly. He brought his other hand up to the angry face. With a steel-like grip he bent Kirk's head to the side and lowered his face to his neck.

"My God," Kirk raged, fighting his arousal as hot lips and tongue brought floods of unwelcome pleasure. Then the teeth raked him hard and he stifled a cry.

Spock moved away and Kirk nervously watched, he twisted to follow him circling behind him, trying to will him to stop. But when he saw the whip rise he jerked back around trying to steel himself to be struck. He heard the crack at the same time his ass stung with the impact. He heard it sing in the air and crack again, then again, and again till the blows couldn't no longer be felt distinctly, only a blurring stampede of sensation. Then it stopped.

He was panting, waiting in the silence. He jerked when the whispering leather strands slid over his shoulder, running gently along his neck.

Kirk steadied himself, weak-kneed, breath running ragged. Spock appeared again in front of him, reaching out slowly and deliberately to stroke him with an open palm.

"This is wrong, Spock. _God_." The hand was moving over his chest, sliding under the loose silk to stroke his bare, sweating skin. Something tight inside Kirk's chest felt close to breaking. He felt ... soothed by Spock's hand, a flutter of warmth beating in his breast. He struggled to control his breathing.

Spock stepped closer, encircling his waist and pressing a velvety leg up against him. The feel of it on his cock thrilled Kirk. He turned his face away. Fingers moved through his hair as the slender thigh subtly rocked his hard sex. "I ... I can't...," Kirk murmured, "I can't bear this."

The cloud of pleasure in his groin was almost too sweet to resist, he wanted to rub himself on Spock's leg. And then Spock moved away, leaving him achingly hard and stung with shame. Fingers tangled in his hair, less and less gently, like a warning. Then the Vulcan's hands gripped Kirk's head and pushed him down forward as far as the chains would reach. It was far enough to bring his face level with Spock's rigid cock, obscenely encased in velvet.

His head was manipulated forcefully; his mouth dragged open over the shaft of the cock. He was gasping on it and salivating over the fabric, forced to breathe in the murky spiced scent of Spock's sex, back and forth until he'd unwillingly memorized its shape, its length. And then Spock jerked him upright.

"Bastard," Kirk groaned, hating him, hating himself. "Damn you," he spat the words. "Is this your fantasy?" he hissed, goaded by the indifference in Spock's face. "Is this what you want." A powerful hand tightened on the back of his neck, dragging his head back, choking off speech, and he felt cloth ripped from his waist. His cock was kissed by air, still hard, and now blatantly exposed.

"Evidently," Spock said, "it is pleasing to you." Kirk felt breath on his throat and then the warm wetness of a tongue gliding down his skin. Kirk shuddered, unable to _not_ think of how that tongue would feel on his throbbing dick as the mouth moved down him. He shivered as a wet trail circled his nipple without touching it. His body prayed for the mouth to close over him and suck even as he seethed with anger. When Spock let go of his neck he stumbled.

"Stand up," Spock told him, waiting for him to get steadied on his feet. He waited until Kirk saw the whip in his hand to walk behind him. Cringing, trying to be ready for the blow he heard the whistle and crack of it. When it came it was stunning, impossibly sharp on bare skin. Then again and again, a rain of heat he couldn't twist free of. The hurt pounded in the silence when the blows stopped.

Kirk's blood throbbed in his ass and still engorged his dick. He'd shut his eyes, near weeping and he felt the handle under his chin.

"Open your eyes," Spock said. He gazed into them speculatively when Kirk at last raised his lids.

"How can you be so calm, Spock, do you realize what you are doing?" he implored softly.

"Calm is not a precise description of my state," he answered just as softly. He began to explore the sweat dampened silk covering Kirk's chest, brushing his nipples into hard shivery nubs. "You are very aroused," he observed. His hand dropped lower and teased Kirk's hard cock with light-fingered stroking along the underside of its shaft. But when Kirk's eyes squeezed tight shut again Spock released him.

Kirk watched the Vulcan circle behind him and waited helplessly for the sound of the whip. But there was no sound and the force of the blow was blunt. The handle slapped upward to his thigh, crumpling his leg under him. He slumped awkwardly onto his knees, arms outstretched. He crouched there, choking, waiting.

"You are a very beautiful man," Spock said from behind him. The words were like honey through the pain. Kirk sensed the dark-eyed Vulcan gaze traveling over him,  approving of and desiring him; it was like being kissed from inside, a soul-searching kiss in the marrow of his bones. _  
_

Kirk heard a whisper of movement behind him and thought he could feel the presence of Spock, kneeling behind him. A warm hand touched him from below, cupping his swollen testicles. Fingertips probed behind his balls, finding and massaging a very sweet spot at the root of the cock. _I am so fucking hard, so fucking hard._ Kirk's thoughts were a keening mantra of lust until Spock's hands slid upward between his flayed cheeks. Powerful thumbs spread his ass slowly, spread him so wide he felt the pressure  
in his bones. He burned with shame as the most private part of his body was so deliberately exposed; skin and muscles stretched, everything ruthlessly displayed that should be hidden - and for what? For an act that was as ugly and wrong as this inhuman spreading of his body.

"No, God, no," Kirk managed to croak the words out in strangled protest. A long excruciating silence followed, finally broken by the deep measured tone of Spock's voice.

"The correct response," he said slowly, "is _yes_."

Kirk shuddered to feel hot breath on the taut flesh between his wide-spread cheeks and the shock of lips brushing his skin. He gasped in stunned pleasure when he felt the first wet stroke of Spock's tongue. Unbearably sweet and wet, bathing his heated skin. The tip probed at his stretched hole and Kirk groaned, his muscles clenched  
helplessly and then loosened as the tongue pressed inward, juicy and soft, exploring and caressing. When Spock withdrew his tongue Kirk shivered and his sphincter clutched at the air, when it slid back in he let go a deep groaning sigh.

Then it was gone. All touching was gone for long moments. Kirk felt his ass was drenched with spit, it had pooled and was dripping down on his balls. He ached to be touched again. He waited, wanting. A hand finally touched his back, stroking up and around his neck to cup his chin. Spock was pulling his head up and back, making him  
rise up on his knees and arch back into a strong supporting arm until he was forced to look up into the man's face.

Spock's eyes were on his. Kirk didn't struggle, didn't look away. He gazed into dark eyes steadily, waiting, _wanting_. As Spock's mouth came down on his he opened up to it without resistance. He tasted the earthy flavor of his own body on Spock's tongue.

In a fog of desire he sucked at it, stirred deeply each time his mouth was probed, feeling that this must be what it was like for a woman, aching to be filled. Spock was possessing Kirk's mouth with his tongue, pulling away to only to lick him, to bite him.

"Spock," he breathed his name, "I want you to fuck me."

"You do," he agreed, with something close to a sigh.

Kirk felt his hips securely held, steadying him at the first invasion of hard flesh. He was soaked with spit, slick and yearning to get it in him, all thought crowded out by the onslaught of pleasure. He rocked with the motion of Spock's hips, his own cock throbbing in the air. So suffused was his pelvis with pounding blood he could hardly tell where the pleasure was, only that he had to keep feeling the cock inside him. For agonizing minutes of taunting strokes he held on, willing it to last. But it was too good when Spock pulled him tight up against him, straining deep and grasping his erection in a glove-like fist. Kirk succumbed in long shuddering spasms. He sank back weakly, letting Spock support his weight. He could feel him still hard inside and wanted to just stay there forever, resting and full.

But Spock gradually withdrew and guided him to rest against the marble column. Kirk closed his eyes. He'll kill us both now, he thought distantly, unable to move.

"Trelane," he heard Spock say, "you'll get no release from another man's pleasure."

Kirk's eyes opened at the sound of the steady voice. He raised his head and made his aching knees support him. Spock was a few feet in front of him, his cock glistening, flushed bronze in his hand. He was stroking it slowly. His other hand held the whip and he swirled it lazily over the floor in front of him. Kirk stared.

"I require your naked presence here," the Vulcan indicated the floor at his feet with the whip and Kirk felt afraid, watching, not believing this command would be obeyed. But the air shimmered and Trelane appeared there, naked, on his knees.

Kirk hated to see how they gazed at each other but couldn't look away. Spock was studying Trelane's face as he circled his neck with the supple leather strands, then he pulled them taut. Trelane was docile under this treatment and started to reach for Spock's erection. A jerk of the leather stopped him.

"Keep your hands down," Spock ordered him. Trelane dropped them to his sides. He stared up from the hard sex to Spock's face, almost worshipful. "Spread your knees apart," the Vulcan said, nudging a thigh with his boot.

It scared Kirk to see Spock lift the youngster's hanging scrotum on his boot. Not for the brutality of the gesture but it's tenderness. Trelane's pleasure was exquisitely plain. "This is why we're here," he realized with a sting of shame. Seeing Trelane straddle the boot, aching to hump it, Kirk knew his own part in this drama was secondary.  The Vulcan was holding the head of his cock inches from Trelane's parted lips.

"You are indeed lacking in discipline. Hold out your tongue but don't move it." He rubbed the swollen bronze-colored head over the offered tongue, massaging himself on the pink wet flesh and then drawing away, trailing a string of pre-ejaculate.

Spock unlaced the whip from Trelane's neck and grasped a tight handful of dark curls.

"What shall I do with you?" he asked. He let go the curls and stroked through them for a moment before his hand dropped and his thumb pressed between Trelane's lips. "You grew too strong for them to control, didn't you," he said. He withdrew his thumb to hold him by his jaw and Trelane murmured, "Yes."

Spock pressed his knee into the naked chest and Trelane visibly trembled. Kirk could feel the desire under that trembling, Trelane's longing to rub his hard dick on the leather of the boot between his legs. But Spock cautioned, "Hold still." He pressed his thumb back between the lips and stirred it inside, fucking his lips with it. Then he pulled Trelane's head against his thigh and lifted the whip. Kirk's muscles tensed in anticipation of a singing crack, but the whip didn't swing through the air. Spock swung the leather in a quiet slap of strands over and across Trelane's back. He did this for awhile, holding the shuddering body still against his leg. Then he released him and stood back.

Kirk stared at the figure of his enemy, on his knees, tears running down his face, cock jerking high up his belly, dripping. And Spock, standing between the spread knees, once again pointing his dick at the young man's mouth, running it over his lips, back and forth. He felt his own mouth water at the sight.

"Suck me, just your lips and tongue, keep your hands still." He holstered the whip and began to stroke the young man's hair again, pushing it back from his forehead, trailing his fingertips down to his brow and up again in a way Kirk hated to see, so disturbingly loving.

Then gently Spock withdrew his cock. He reached down and grasped the young man under the arms, lifting him to his feet. Trelane leaned into him, mouth open and Kirk was unhappy to see Spock kiss him.

It was hard to watch, but he had to see.

Spock carried the youth to the bed, he lay Trelane down and stood beside him. Cradling the dark head, he let Trelane have his way with sucking and touching. How greedy he is, Kirk thought, hearing the wet sounds and moans escape from his enemy's mouth. And when Trelane let him go, burying his face against Spock's belly, the Vulcan cock was sparkling with spit in the firelight. He turned him over gently, stroking his back, the backs of his thighs. He kneaded his ass and spread the cheeks wide apart. Kirk wanted to cry out, "No," when he realized that Trelane would feel that tongue inside him, wetting him, readying him. Did I moan and shake like that when Spock touched me? he thought miserably. He knew that he had. And when he saw him on Trelane's back, fucking in long slow strokes he felt chilled, horrified by the thought that he'd been their foreplay.

He heard Trelane's cries and saw Spock's hips jerk against him, knew he was coming as he hadn't come with _him_.  Almost worse was to watch was the aftermath. Spock kissing the back of Trelane's neck, soothing his back with a softly stroking hand. Trelane rolled over slowly, and lay looking up at the Vulcan.

Kirk watched _his_ lover gazing down steadily into another man's face and thought, this is sick, this is wrong!

Spock was saying. "Do you understand?"

"I believe I do, Mr. Spock."

Kirk listened, confused. He had never heard such a tone on Trelane's lips, so quiet, so serious.

"You are a very eloquent teacher. If I need another lesson, I will summon you more gently."

At that moment Kirk realized that the weight of the shackles was gone, his wrists and ankles were free and he wondered how long he'd been leaning there, free to move but frozen in place. He tried to move away from column's support and could just barely stand now on his own. Then Spock was there beside him, steadying him, saying,  
"It's over, Captain."

For a terrifying moment he feared they would appear on the bridge of the ship in come-spattered velvet. But as the beam dissolved around him, still supported by a strong arm around his waist, he felt the pain of his uniform on his ravaged skin. They had been beamed directly into Kirk's quarters. He pulled away from Spock, dropping to his bed.

He heard the Vulcan activate the comm.

"Spock to bridge, the Captain and I have been returned. Helmsman, reset our course for Janus VI. Have Dr. McCoy report to the Captain's quarters. Spock out. - Captain,  
I shall leave you in the doctor's capable hands. If needed, I'll be in my quarters."

"Spock," Kirk started but the Vulcan interrupted him.

"Not now," he said quietly. "May I note, without disrespect, that your current need for medical attention takes precedence over the need for discussion. I'll await your convenience." With that he left Kirk alone.

 

McCoy treated the cuts and bruises, numbing the torn skin. Kirk was grateful for the quiet attention. He knew McCoy wouldn't push him for details. He thinks Trelane did this, Kirk thought, and he was relieved to let him think it.

"Is Spock all right Jim, should I take a look at him?"

"He's not injured, Bones. God, that feels better."

"The cuts aren't deep."

"You think my pride's hurting and you're right, as usual."

"I'm thinking I'm damn glad you're back here in one piece. I'm gonna give you a light sedative and let you get some sleep. By the time you wake up and get some food in you, you'll be right as rain."

"Will I?" he wondered feeling the drugs effect all ready claiming him.

Fourteen hours later Kirk did feel good. Physically rested and mentally calm. He thought he could begin to see what had happened in enough perspective to begin tolerating it. The private transmission of a transfer request from his First Officer, which he had no intention of granting, had helped him to feel in control again. Some sleep, some food, amazing medicine. A trip to the bridge further reassured him.

He felt ready to talk to Spock.

Then, of course, it was less simple when he saw him. Robed in black, seated in meditation before the red glow of the Vulcan fire-pot. Kirk had seen him in meditation before. Spock's door was never barred to him and it happened from time to time that he entered unannounced to find him this way. The sight was always compelling. But where once he might have admired the slender body in its graceful pose he now found the sight arousing.

_I've kissed this man, I've come in his hand. I know what it feels like to have him inside me._

He started to back out of the room, but Spock's voice stopped him, "You are not disturbing me, Captain. Please come in and sit down." He rose gracefully. Like he does everything, Kirk thought, watching. When he sat down he thanked God for the absence of pain. Spock sat opposite and waited. Kirk summoned up the confidence he'd felt on his way and put aside the thought of Spock's body. He saw his own hand curled in a fist on the table and willed himself to relax it.

"Spock, your request for transfer is denied." He studied his face, trying to gauge what feeling he could find behind the impassive expression. "I don't really understand what happened down there but I'm not going to lose my First Officer because of it." When Spock didn't respond he continued. "Do you think I'm too proud to live with it? I want to understand it and put it behind us."

"Understanding does not necessarily grant distance, Captain."

Kirk brushed this comment aside. "You told me that if we survived you would answer my questions." An uneasiness spread in his chest, the memory of how vulnerable he'd felt when Spock had said this. He wished Spock were in uniform, not decked out in black in front of him.

"You may ask what you wish."

"Did you, before all this happened ... were you physically attracted to me?" Kirk felt the heat of a blush in his face.

"Yes."

"But Spock, _when_? Only weeks ago I saw you with Leila. When the spores affected you, you weren't looking at me. I would have felt it in your eyes, some gesture, something. I'm not blind, Spock."

"Indeed, you are not. You are, on the contrary, very perceptive. And I am a Vulcan. It required discipline to conceal my feelings, my body's response to you, but I am well-trained to do so. I have shielded such things since the moment I first saw you."

"But the spores," Kirk protested, "we were alone here, you said nothing."

"If you will recall, in the time we spent alone, your actions were designed to deliberately provoke my anger."

"God, Spock. I don't know what to say, I can't quite believe it."

"Is there more you wish to know?"

There was more but he was too full of questions that were hard to ask. He took a breath to speak and then said nothing, trying to digest what he'd heard, flustered in the face of Spock's calm.

"All this time," he finally said, wanting to get up and pace but making himself sit still.

"Captain, it's not a simple matter to un know a thing, once it's known. Your pride is not the issue here. I do not believe you to be too proud to accommodate what's happened. It's your awareness of my feelings that will make my presence a source of both distraction and  discomfort."

"I can live with discomfort. Give me a chance, it's still ... very fresh." He let a moment pass in silence, trying to gather his wits. "I won't  consider a transfer without at least trying to work this out. If it's true that you have these feelings and you've lived with them, _I can_."

"Live with mine" Spock questioned gently, "or your own?" Kirk looked away from him, mortified to realize that Spock knew precisely what he feelings were -- he was a touch telepath and every emotion he'd felt during that horror show Trelane had forced on them must be known to Spock.

"I don't understand," Kirk admitted with difficulty. "I don't understand why you hurt me, or how it made me feel. I've never wanted anything like that. I've never needed that kind of thing. With women, it's not that way. And, despite what you may think, I've had some ... encounters with men. It's never been like that."

With an air of considerable patience Spock reached for Kirk's hand on the table but Kirk pulled away. He stared at his hand, shocked by his own reaction, knowing he'd been wanting him to touch him since he'd walked in.

"Do I need to point out the difference for you," Spock said, "between what you've experienced with casual partners and what you feel when I touch you? Any one of your lovers, if allowed to become as intimate, would find it as treacherous a task to reach inside your defenses as I do."

Kirk felt the truth of it and hated it, hated this vision of himself.  Defenses implied weakness. He stared past Spock at the door, thinking he should go, he should be by himself. Am I some kind of monster to need pain, to need to be hurt? A treacherous task, he called it, to love me.

"We'll talk later," he said wearily, getting up. But when he drew level with Spock the Vulcan rose up and blocked his way.

"I don't believe I can let you leave now, not this way," he told him. "If I must, I'll restrain you, but I  prefer you to stay without  struggling."

"Don't Spock, I can't stay. I can't stay now. There's too much to think about, it's not the right time." He found himself almost pleading. He felt threatened by the man blocking his way, and uncomfortably aroused by it.

"Stay," Spock said. He took hold of Kirk's wrists and folded them easily behind his back. He needed only one strong hand to keep them trapped there in the small of his back. He held his face in his other hand and began to  kiss him.

It was agony for Kirk. He'd wanted this kiss so badly and yet he closed his mouth against it. Angry at Spock, angry at himself. He wanted to prove Spock was wrong about his need for pain, for coercion, but didn't open his mouth until he was bitten. The shock made him gasp and Spock's fingers worked into the hinge of his jaw, holding his mouth open with a stinging grip. He licked Kirk's parted lips and circled them with his tongue, making him shudder, his thigh moved between Kirk's legs and found him hard, he forced him closer, teasing his erection.

Gradually Spock released the pressure of his fingers on Kirk's jaw, the mouth had become supple and wet under his. He backed up slightly, still holding his wrists and reached between their bodies to pull open the uniform pants. Kirk moaned against him as Spock's hand massaged his bare cock.

"You are so appealing," Spock said. "It is difficult to choose between your mouth," which he paused to feel with his tongue, "and your cock," he let it bounce free and gazed down at it between them. He lowered himself to his knees and ran his lips over the swollen pink head, licking the sticky spill of lubricant from its tiny slit.

Kirk couldn't assemble his thoughts so he abandoned them, letting the warm wet mouth take him over. He squirmed in Spock's grasp, so close to coming, dying to come in that mouth. But Spock seemed to sense the moment, the edge of his climax and let go leaving him wet in the air.

"I want to enter you," he said close enough for Kirk to feel his breath on his stomach. Then he rose to his feet and without letting him go, turned him around and bent him forward on to the table. The surface was cold and hard under him but Kirk didn't care, his attention was focused between his legs where his cock throbbing, his ass was being spread by strong fingers. He wanted the tongue. And then wanted the cock, pushing up on it when he finally felt the wet, slippery head at the entrance.

Spock let go his wrists, molding his cheeks, spreading and lifting as he thrust between them. Kirk felt blissfully full of the crowding flesh,  longing for the feel of Spock coming inside him. The sensation of swollen urgency built as the cock stroked over his prostate and he squirmed when Spock slowed his movements to long deep thrusts and then stopped pressed up flush to his ass. He lowered himself on Kirk's back and wrapped his arms around and under him grasping his cock with both hands. "Come," he whispered against his ear, and started milking him hard under the table. Kirk gave himself up to it quivering with relief and felt a hot rush of  fluid deep in his bowels as the last spasms of his climax overwhelmed him.

  
The fire-pot cast a red glow in the dark. Kirk's body was utterly at  
peace in Spock's bed, his thoughts mostly quiet as he watched the ruby-rich  
light reflect on the man folded serenely, cross-legged, preparing for  
meditation. One question circled Kirk's mind as his eyelids grew heavy.  
Finally spoke it out loud.

"Spock, what was it that Trelane understood?"

"He understood his desire to be punished and controlled."

"I don't understand," Kirk said, but was too sleepy to persist. It could wait, he thought.  


 

 


End file.
